Time: Part, Full, Priceless, Costly

Around year ten in teaching, I decided to take my first early morning run of the summer on the last day of teaching. I am not sure why — maybe I did it unintentionally the first time and craved it subsequent years for its physical and figurative qualities. It’s time when I am not confronted with Tweets or emails, when I am not tempted by my to-read stack of books. I also like the symbolism of running. When your legs carry you down the road, you lean into the wind that tries to hold you back, engaging your legs to help you attack the slope. The lines that guide traffic get lost on a blind hill, but you go on knowing that, on the other side, you can trot without resistance, daring to go just a little faster.

This morning, when I met the road to run on this last day of the school year, it marked the end of my fifteenth year even though my pension report only counts thirteen. One year, I took a leave of absence to start a PhD and decide if I wanted to be a teacher. Another year, I worked part-time, as I defended my dissertation and recommitted to being a teacher, and this year, I worked part-time to decide not so much if I wanted to be a teacher but how I could best serve my profession. I just can’t shake this paradox of feeling like I am a teacher while not ever being satisfied with who I am as a teacher.

Time has always been my nemesis. There just never seems to be enough time to do all that ELA teachers do, including nurturing my own reading, writing, and academic interests (not to mention exercising, sleeping, and attending to my family). I always think If there were just more time in the day.Thus, when a part-time position in my junior high district became available last summer, I took it, thinking A pay cut could buy me more time. Time is priceless. Time is a gift.

I took the part-time position and the pay cut, promising I would make up some of that income as I attempted new endeavors. My plan was to use my mornings to sleep, exercise, read, research, and write. I would teach junior high in the afternoon and teach teachers in the evenings. It didn’t take long for the extra few hours I bought to be filled with new projects.

This is how I spent my fifteenth year of teaching “part” time:

• 4 classes of junior high in a new school
• 3 courses of higher ed literacy methods
• 1 published young adult novel
• 6 chapters for edited books: 1) teaching about genocide, 2) LGTBQ representation in literature, 3) writing workshop, 4) assessment practices, 5) book groups, 6) gun violence
• 1 keynote at ECET2 on a teacher’s hierarchy of needs
• 1 of 3 columns for The ALAN Review published by The Assembly on Literature for Adolescents of the NCTE (join here)
• 150 young adult and middle grade books read
• bi-monthly Google hangouts to plan the first Summit on the Research and Teaching of Young Adult Literature (June 16-18, 2018, Las Vegas)
• many hours on the literal road driving to my teaching jobs (75 miles round-trip)
• many letters of recommendation for teachers entering the profession

By going part-time in my primary job (junior high classroom teacher), I was required to be at school three hours less. I used those 522 hours well (3 x 174 days of school). I read and wrote a whole lot more. I met new junior high teachers, worked with a new principal, became a traveling teacher with a diaper bag, and taught my first year with 1:1 technology. At DePaul, I met pre-service teachers in English, Art, History, Science, and Mathematics. We explored discourses and literacy methods while having honest conversations about the demands of teaching. I collaborated with some of the most brilliant, compassionate scholars in English Education to publish books for teachers. I published a novel with independent editors, copyeditors, interior designers, graphic designers, printers, distributors, and bookstore owners. I did sleep a bit more. And I did have more dinner dates with my husband. None of this would have happened if I did not go part-time this year. In many ways, that time was, indeed, priceless.

Traversing our field across so many virtual and real spaces this year illuminated my understanding of our field exponentially. Just take a look at the above paragraph and think about the dimensions of teaching: institutions, technology, research, publication, collaboration, and, of course, all the people that it takes to keep our profession going (e.g., authors, researchers, publishers, teachers, administrators, and students). Think about all the time people invest in our field of English Education creating and reading literature; researching literacy and methods; writing and publishing findings; and collaborating, preparing, traveling, and presenting at conferences. Think about what all these people are doing to be informed enough to participate in shaping the current and future of our field. Think about what it takes to get the research into the hands of stakeholders and decision-makers who can then bring the content to the students. Gosh, and think about the time it takes to bring about that change.

In truth, however, time does have its costs. The 522 hours I read and wrote for my personal and professional development were not compensated nor were the hours and gas I spent for the 14,000 miles I drove between my home and two places of employment. I paid for my professional memberships and travel to conferences on my own. The authors I came to know and the researchers with whom I collaborated were not really compensated for their time or products either. While it is their livelihood, they do not do “it” for the money. It’s all part of our professional commitment and responsibility to our profession and the students we serve. Still, very little of the money teachers spend on books and conferences go to the people who are creating the content.

What else did I learn? And will I do this again?

I did not exercise more. In fact, in February, I was actually hospitalized for neglecting my physical well being. I cannot explain how my brain or personality work except to say that I tend to overdo things. I get so engrossed in new projects that the ideas feel like food and water. And in the year of “part-time,” I had taken on too many new projects as you can see from my list above that my body failed to function. While I think I can do more, the reality is that I can’t. I shouldn’t.

I am in a profession with so many capable people doing important work. I was fortunate to contribute to important projects. I met so many compassionate, hard-working, creative people in our field this year, and I know that the future of English and Education are in good hands. Every day there are books and blogs and tweets from people promoting reading and writing in ways that align with my own values and practices. It feels good to be a part of it all, but I am not really needed. I think I can save time by supporting those voices rather than adding another hashtag or blog post (after this one). I will use my hands to applaud their work and share their books and blogs.

Perhaps the most important lesson I learned was that I love writing fiction, so I guess I will use my hands for that, too. I am happy writing creatively. Last summer, I wrote my first novel, and as soon as it was finished, I was left wanting that creative space again. I suspect part of this is because I am an introvert. I was out of my comfort zone a lot this year — traveling, collaborating, speaking, even self-promoting. This summer, I will return to that safe space. I think it is okay to rest in one’s comfort zone from time to time.

Finally, there is no such thing as “part” when it comes to teaching. Teaching is so much more than the time one spends in a school. It is always “full” if not overflowing.

End of This Road

By the end of my run today, my legs were tired from the hills, and my mind was swirling from all I had pondered (and the bikers and dogs I averted). I am grateful for all the opportunities this year. I am humbled by the magnitude of brilliant, dedicated teachers who take it upon themselves to find or create the professional development they need to be better for the human beings with whom we are all entrusted.

I know that time is precious. Thank you for your time, reading this post. Thank you for the time you invest in our students. Thank you for all you do to support English teachers, to promote all that an English education can do for humanity. I know the only way we can endure in any meaningful way is by supporting one another, and I will give you my support but hold back on my time this year — if that’s okay.